


Nightmares

by rosamynal



Series: Cacoethes Scribendi [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Development, Gen, Nightmares, Possession, Two Minds One Body, Voidsent (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosamynal/pseuds/rosamynal
Summary: Not all sleep is peaceful.
Series: Cacoethes Scribendi [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1452643
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Nightmares

_It never changes for you, does it, boy?_

"Papa!"

Malruk turned around to see a black-haired girl run up to him, arms raised. With a deep laugh, the fair-skinned Highlander swung his daughter up and lifted her over his head. Her high-pitched laughter joined with his as he spun in place before lowering the girl to sit on his hip. She tossed her arms around his neck in a hug, allowing him to press a kiss to her forehead.

"How was the river this morning, my little treasure?"

"Cold!" She responded with an exaggerated shiver.

His jaw dropped with mock concern before wrapping her in a tight embrace. She squealed with more laughter and squirmed in his grip.

"I would prefer it if you didn't crush our daughter to death, my love."

Malruk glanced up from peppering the girl with kisses to see a short Midlander approaching with a basket of damp laundry. The brunette’s lips were set in a stern line, but her emerald eyes shone with her concealed delight.

"Oh, I won't crush her, isn't that right?"

“Right! Papa won’t hurt me!” their daughter declared with a wide grin. 

“He better not,” his wife said, lips twisting into a smirk as she stopped beside him. “He knows better than to upset me, doesn’t he?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my guiding star,” he whispered and leaned over to lightly kiss the woman’s lips. “It’s too cold this time of year for me to spend a night in the chicken coop.”

Malruk readjusted his hold on the girl to wrap an arm around the woman’s waist for a more satisfying kiss. Before he could pull her in, his wife shoved the basket of laundry between them. His face fell while she flashed a taunting smile up at him.

“Do you mind helping me with this, Mal? It’s _so_ heavy and I had to carry it oh so _far_.”

“It’s only a five minute walk,” he grumbled.

“But I’m just a poor, _weak_ woman!”

“I’ve seen you fight and kill a _bear_.”

“Whatever will I do?” she asked and brought a limp hand to her forehead.

“You just don’t want to hang the laundry,” he noted flatly.

“I did all the scrubbing,” she reasoned, craning upwards to kiss his neck. “The least you can do is hang it up.”

Malruk chuckled and leaned back down to kiss her cheek.

“You’re lucky I love you, Stella.”

“ _You’re_ lucky I married you.”

Things changed in a single blink of his yellow eyes.

In his wife’s place stood a dark-skinned Viera with long, golden blonde hair over one shoulder. She smiled up at him, hips cocked to one side as her arms crossed over her chest. A strange, purple light tinted everything in a somber hue. One of her long ears twitched; her warm brown eyes narrowed in amusement.

“You’ll take care of that and then go hunting, won’t you?” she asked.

A confused blink followed by a hushed _“What?”_

His wife tapped the basket in his grip and repeated herself.

“You’ll hang this up for me and then go hunting with the men, right?”

“I… yes, of course,” he responded, easing a smile into place.

An annoyed growl echoed at the reaches of his consciousness.

_You really don’t… ...it’s... ...night—_

His daughter tapped his shoulder, drawing his attention to where he held her. She beamed at him.

“Don’t worry, Papa; I’ll help!”

Malruk smirked in return and walked around their small cottage.

“I’ll be glad for it, my little gem. You’ll hold the clothespins for me and hand them over as I need them, won’t you?”

The little girl fervently nodded. He set her down and handed her the small jar filled with clothespins. Her green eyes watched him place the basket beneath the line. Her arm shot out, offering a clothespin before he could even hold up the damp linen shirt against the line. He chuckled at his daughter and accepted the small wooden fastener.

 _You’re… ...hurt—… ...—self…_ the strangely familiar voice growled at Malruk. 

The Highlander shook his head, forcing the sensation away. He kept his attention on hanging the laundry and fixing it in place with his daughter’s help. 

When he reached the bottom of the basket, his wife approached with his bow and quiver in her hands. Just past her, peeking around the corner of his cottage, Malruk saw some of the other men from the village watching him. One of them, a brunet and his closest friend, was making faces and loud kissing sounds. The black-haired Highlander rolled his yellow eyes as he slung the quiver over one shoulder and accepted the bow.

“Do you think the elders would blame me if Styrga came back with an arrow in his face?” he murmured to Stella.

His wife glanced over her shoulder. The man immediately stopped and sheepishly smiled at her. He innocently waved one hand before ducking out of sight. Stella sighed and shrugged up at Malruk.

“Who knows? They might reward you with a seat on the council. But in all honesty, my beloved hunter, you know better.”

“I do,” he admitted. “But you have to admit it’s tempting.”

“Mal…” she drawled, tone dropping to a pitch she typically used when warning him or their daughter. 

“Alright. Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll only aim at deer _—_ and leave his bothersome ass off the menu. I’ll see you this evening.”

He kissed Stella on the forehead. His little girl hopped up from where she had been playing with the now-empty basket. Her arms reached up for him and he obligingly swept her up for a kiss to her cheek.

“Now you behave while Papa’s gone, alright?”

“I’ll listen to Mama,” she said, nodding solemnly.

He set her on the ground with a soft _“good girl”_ and joined the men gathering in the center of the village. A few moments later, they split into smaller groups and left to hunt.

Styrga gurgled out a yell from where Malruk had the shorter man pinned in a headlock. The others in their eight-strong hunting party cheered their preferred fighter on while Styrga began hitting Malruk’s arm. The man in charge of lunch called over that it was ready; Malruk released his friend and watched him collapse forward onto the forest floor. The others walked back to the campfire, patting the black-haired man on the shoulder or offering words of encouragement to the brunet catching his breath. 

“I need to stop sparring with you, old friend,” the man admitted while gulping down air.

Malruk chuckled and offered his hand to help him up. When Styrga’s hand touched his, a chill ran through the Highlander’s body. Without warning, his friend’s right eye was suddenly bright red while the other was a much paler shade. The black-haired man froze as Styrga tilted his head.

“I wonder if you are whole enough to remember."

His voice rang strangely in Malruk's ears. It seemed _older_ somehow and exhausted beyond his limits. The Highlander tried to take a step back, but couldn't break his friend's iron grip.

"No recognition in your eyes," the man continued. "You are still too fractured to have regained your memories yet it seems your soul is still cursed to torment. I never thought I would pity one of the Sundered."

“Who _—_ Who are you? _What_ have you done to Styrga?” Malruk demanded.

Their surroundings flickered. For the briefest of moments, he glimpsed white floors polished to a reflective shine, walls covered with geometric patterns that towered above the pair, and shell-shaped sconces that bathed them in soft, golden light. The man on the ground suddenly had shoulder-length blond hair and wore black robes. A fanged, red mask lay beside him. Malruk’s own hand, for some reason, bore black claws.

The sight vanished just as quickly. 

The voice growled a single word at the edge of wherever Malruk had forced it.

_Ascian._

The other man pulled himself upright. A confident smirk tugged at the shorter man’s lips as his red gaze swept over the Highlander.

“Pitiful. _Pathetic._ The man you once were… _He_ would have known this was coming. He would have sensed it on the wind _—_ or some other such nonsense. Then again, it’s not like he managed to save her _then,_ either.”

A heavy sensation slowly settled itself in the pit of Malruk’s stomach. Without explanation, he suddenly wanted to run back to the village and hold his wife and daughter, but he couldn’t return empty-handed. Stella was expecting something she could cook. The other man scoffed derisively. 

“It seems that not even your sundered fragments are allowed happiness. Perhaps in the next life you’ll be able to save her.”

Styrga blinked; his eyes were suddenly back to their normal blue. The brunet glanced around to find they were alone, but heard the others enjoying their lunch. He grinned at Malruk.

“Come on. Don’t tell me you aren’t hungry.”

Malruk couldn’t wait for sunset. He turned and ran, ignoring Styrga’s cries. The man impossibly found himself near the village outskirts within a few steps. What he saw only made him run faster.

Even from a distance he could tell the village center was in disarray. Doors were bashed in and windows broken. Smoke curled up from the buildings while fire ate away at them. People lay on the ground or huddled in doorways. The livestock was mostly missing, save for an escaped pig or goat. Near the entrance, he saw a child not even two years older than his own, lying in _—_

A dark cloud enveloped him, blocking his view of the sight. He tried to force his way through. Arms wrapped around him from behind as he tried to run forward and something solid pressed against his back. Tears welled up in his eyes while he struggled against the strong grip.

“No!” he shouted. “Let me go! I have to help them!”

“You can’t, boy,” replied the voice calmly. “You know what you found that day. You were too late.”

“I can _save_ them this time!”

The cloud shifted around the black-haired Highlander. The pressure vanished from his back moments before a tall, pale man materialized out of the darkness. He was taller than Malruk with glowing, yellow eyes set in black sclera. A pair of black horns swept from the side of his head and ended in metal-capped points near the corners of his lips. Another pair sprouted from the top of his head and curved back over his long, black hair. Small scales lined the other man’s jaw and spread down his neck, vanishing into his dark red shirt. Clawed hands gripped Malruk tighter before he could slip free.

"You _can't._ You never do." 

He pushed against the other man with a snarl, but still couldn't break free. A sob tore from his throat as he tried to see the village through the deepening darkness. His hands scrabbled for purchase against the arms holding him and the torso blocking his way, but they kept shrugging him off.

"Let me _go,_ Wyrsa. Let me help them. I need to _see_ them! They might--"

"These are _memories_ Malruk," the voidsent hissed. "This is the same nightmare you keep tormenting yourself with night after _night._ If I let you go, the only thing you will see is your wife and child dead in each other's arms."

Tears streamed down Malruk's face while he began to beg. His fingers ached as he dug them into the voidsent's clothes and tough scales.

"Wyrsa, please. Let me go. You don't know. Please. I _have_ to, Wyrsa. Let me see them. I'll do anything. You can have control for a decade, if you like, just _let me see them._ I have to see Stella. I need to see--"

"No," Wyrsa insisted firmly. "It will do neither of us any good to see them."

The strength faded from Malruk's legs. His knees gave out, making him cling to Wyrsa, who guided them to the ground. Scaled arms held the Highlander close. A clawed hand stroked his back. A rough chin rested on top of Malruk's head, letting the man cry into the voidsent's chest. They sat in silence as he sobbed. 

"I… The Ascian was right. I couldn't save mine, either," Wyrsa confessed. "But mine…"

A memory slipped unbidden into Malruk's mind. He saw the blonde Viera from before, lying on the ground. Blood poured from a wound in her abdomen. The longsword in his left hand dripped with more of it as he felt pain shoot through his body and his skin and scalp _itched._ The taste of metal filled his mouth before the vision vanished, leaving him in the voidsent's arms.

Genuine _sorrow_ weighed Malruk down. He lifted his head to find the voidsent had turned his gaze away from him.

"You killed her."

Wyrsa nodded. More information came to Malruk and he understood.

"My own sleep is also filled with nightmares," he confessed in a strangely soft tone. "I have spent lifetimes wondering if things could have been different. What if I had been stronger? What if I had resisted drinking so deeply of the Void? What if I didn't raise my blade against her?"

His glowing gaze slowly turned to study Malruk. Wyrsa sighed and shook his head.

"I have no words of consolation. I have no advice. I cannot even promise that things will improve. I can only offer my help."

“How?”

The voidsent disappeared into the darkness, making him fall forward onto his hands. He sensed Wyrsa’s presence settle around him just as he spoke in the Highlander’s mind.

 _I can suppress the nightmares to a degree,_ he said. 

Malruk’s surroundings flickered. The burning village faded out of sight only to be replaced by the shaded forest floor of Gridania. A moment later, he felt Wyrsa’s exhaustion and the burning village returned beyond the darkness. 

_I cannot keep them fully at bay while you sleep, but I can lessen their effect. But there is something we must do first._

“And what is that?”

_You must allow me a little more control. It will grant me further access to your aether, so I can keep the nightmares from fully interfering with your rest._

The thought worried him. He did want an end to the nightmares, but…

“I don’t know if I can let go of them yet,” he confessed as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t want to forget them.”

Wyrsa’s thoughtful hum echoed in his mind while something tugged at his consciousness. The dark cloud surrounding him faded, revealing a moonlit forest. Malruk heard song and laughter from the direction of the village. He slowly got to his feet to find lanterns decorating the village center where people were gathered to eat, drink, and dance.

“The summer festival,” Malruk murmured.

 _It’s more draining, but I can attempt to steer them towards happier memories like this,_ Wyrsa explained. _Of course, that would require me to take more control than if I were to simply block the worst of the nightmares._

The intent came through before the words left Malruk’s mouth. He immediately felt Wyrsa’s satisfaction, but knew it was too late to go back.

“Do it.”

Pain shot through his body. He arched backwards screaming from the very depths of his soul. Darkness claimed his vision and stole his senses.

Malruk woke in his bedroom in his cottage at the Lavender Beds. His body ached and his muscles were more sore than they had been in some time. He sighed and relaxed into the mattress as he tried to figure out what he had done to be in so much pain. He brought a hand up to run through his messy, black hair, but froze when he saw the black claws sprouting from his fingertips.

The Highlander stared in shock. He flexed his hand, watching how the claws caught what little light came in from the windows set high in the basement walls. Pressing the tip of one against the pad of his thumb proved they were, in fact, real. Another realization occurred to Malruk when he recalled he had _not_ fallen asleep in his home, but in one of The Hourglass’ rooms. 

“Wyrsa?” he whispered, trying to get the voidsent’s attention.

Malruk felt him stir in his mind. 

_What is it, boy?_

He focused on his raised hand and wriggled his fingers. Wyrsa quietly gasped in understanding.

 _Ah, yes. A side-effect of us growing closer. You’re lucky the scales haven’t started showing._ _Although I feel one or two of our sources would rather_ ** _like_** _the horns when they appear._

His only response to the comment was a roll of his eyes. 

“And what am I doing here?” he asked, throwing his hands to the sides to indicate his bedroom.

_Oh. That. I thought you would be more comfortable in your own bed._

“Nothing else happened? You didn’t get anything to eat on the way here?”

Wyrsa scoffed and asked, _Do you taste blood, boy?_

Malruk had to admit that he didn’t. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched in an attempt to relieve his sore body. When he wondered as to the source of it, Wyrsa stirred once more.

_The pain is also an effect. Your body is adapting to my… stronger presence, for lack of a better term. You didn’t notice the last time it happened because you spent the better part of a week recovering from your rather poor decision._

The Highlander hummed to show he understood. His lips suddenly twisted into a frown.

“How are we to explain this to the kitten? She’s never seen your claws.”

Hesitation filled Malruk’s mind and he sensed Wyrsa scramble for an answer. Despite their shared concerns, he couldn’t help but feel smug about the voidsent’s reaction.

_She knows what I am; that I have claws should not surprise her. We’ll think of something while you get changed. Have her meet us here and you can explain over breakfast._

The linkpearl on his bedside table suddenly chimed. He answered it only to be greeted by said Miqo’te’s relieved sigh followed by her worried scolding. Malruk bit his lip to keep from chuckling and assured her he was fine. He invited her to his cottage and promised a good breakfast along with an explanation of why he had vanished during the night.

Malruk stood and left his room while Wyrsa's presence settled at the edge of his consciousness.


End file.
